‘It’s a constant challenge, being able to preach well enough to get people to give.’

Michael Newman uses his soft British accent to educate churchgoers in the ways of Catholicism--at twilight retreats at Mission San Luis Rey in Oceanside, in sermons elsewhere in San Diego and at a tiny church in the woods of Descanso. But, perhaps unbeknown to his parishioners, the 69-year-old native of London has lived several different lives besides that of a preacher. He has been a Fleet Street journalist, a Royal Air Force fighter pilot, a Washington diplomat, a newspaper editor and a citizen of three countries. Times Staff writer Leslie Wolf interviewed Newman at Our Lady of Light Catholic Church in Descanso, and V. Richard Haro photographed him.

In 1965 I decided to settle in California, in Oceanside of all places, and I joined the San Diego Union. The Vietnam War was on, and I had to cover Camp Pendleton. One time they had a secret prisoner practice device there hidden in the woods. They used to put guys through all kinds of hell in there to train them for when they got caught in Vietnam. They had to live on snakes; they had to suffer being buried in the ground. And they allowed me to do a story on it. It was a bit of a hush-hush arrangement in those days.

I was asked to take over the Southern Cross, a Catholic newspaper, but I left after 10 years when a new challenge came along called computerized banking. A few fellows and myself got together and designed a thing called an electronic funds system, whereby you could sit in a church and fill out a little form that says, “Please debit from my account each week $10 for Our Lady of Collection,” and then every week through a computer would flow this money into the church, whichever church it was. We thought this would revolutionize giving. But the churches didn’t bite. People want to be seen putting something in the basket.

I’m an ordained deacon, the first in San Diego. We didn’t have deacons in the Catholic Church for a thousand years. In 1969 the Vatican council issued a proclamation to the world saying we can now have permanent deacons again, which there were in the early church. But they had dropped them because there was jealousy between the priests and the deacons. The deacons became too powerful, really. Now, I can be a deacon and be married, which I am, with a wife and family.

I still do twilight retreats. It’s a constant challenge, being able to preach well enough to get people to give. All the time people come up to me and say, “I do love the way you speak.” I wish they would say, “I do love what you say!” I just hope they listen to what I’m saying.

In Britain, you turn people on with an American accent. Every singer takes on an American accent in all the pop songs. I don’t listen to that kind of music, though I was turning the radio dial the other day and I happened upon a song about sex and drugs and beer or some such awful thing. I did take my children to the first Beatles concert in Washington, D.C., and my ears came out going like this: “Yang, yang, yang!” All that screaming loudness. . . . I’ll never go again.

I met my wife in Africa. I was in the Royal Air Force for six years as a pilot, and they sent me out to Africa to teach others to fly. I went to church in Bulawayo, Rhodesia, to join the choir, and there was this beautiful girl singing. We started dating, and in 1944 we got married at that same cathedral.

We’ve been living in this parish for 10 years. We built a house on a lovely spot out in the countryside. After 25 years in Africa, this is so like it.

California is a wonderful place. I always say there can’t be much wrong with a country that gives religion a whole page each Saturday in the newspaper. My favorite place would have to be Cape Town (South Africa) or San Diego. They have similar climates and beaches all around.

South Africa is a lovely country, but they have such huge troubles which almost defy solution, all because people dragged their feet. I was there in 1948, when apartheid came into being. It should have been checked long ago.